


The World is a Coffee Shop

by frosting



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alfred and Ivan secretly love each other, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Bakery and Coffee Shop, Capslock, Character accents are not meant to be offensive, Coffee, Coffee Shops, Crack, Dancing, Gen, Gratiutous use of caps lock, Humor, Music, Over-use of Character Accents, Post-Apocalypse???, Romulus and Adelhard are sneaky lovebirds, Scones, Secrets, Space Race - freeform, THIS IS CRACK - DO NOT TAKE SERIOUSLY, Trees, Vomiting, crack!, everyone is so done with them, i dunno you decide, serious-not-serious suicide attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-28
Updated: 2016-07-28
Packaged: 2018-07-27 08:25:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7610827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frosting/pseuds/frosting
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>...and Alfred and Ivan want out. Meanwhile, everyone else has to put up with them and Romulus and Adelhard have a secret.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The World is a Coffee Shop

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Marvelite5Ever](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marvelite5Ever/gifts).



> So, I got into Hetalia a little while ago, but this is the first story I’ve written for the fandom that I’ve finished so far. My sister’s birthday was last month and she asked me to write this for her as a present. It’s late, but her birthday story for me is late, too, so…
> 
> Anyway, I when started writing for the prompt that a Coffee Shop AU is “a universe that is itself a coffee shop,” I thought that it was just be a short little piece, but it turned out being around 8,500 words. I’m finally finished and I hope you enjoy reading!
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or its characters. I do not make any money off of this fanwork.
> 
> LANGUAGE TRANSLATIONS, COFFEE TYPES, AND OTHER IMPORTANT NOTES ARE AT BOTTOM OF STORY.

Romulus Vargas, the handsome and charming owner of the fabulous café _Roma Antiqua_ , woke up to the café burglar alarm going off. Again. For the third time that week.

Groaning, Romulus rolled out of bed and, clad only in his boxers, staggered downstairs to the coffee shop. He flicked on the lights to find someone trying to pry one of his windows out of its frame. Again. For the third time that week.

“ _Dio caro_ , Alfred!” Romulus wailed. “Not again! Stop a-trying to a-break my windows!”

Alfred spun around with a screwdriver in his hand and a manic expression on his face. “I'm going to find the exit!” he yelled. “It's there, I know it is! I'm going to escape! You can't stop me from reaching FREEDOM!”

“You stupid boy,” sighed Romulus, “there is a-nothing outside!” 

This was true, as far as anyone knew. Nothing existed outside the huge complex of coffee shops, libraries, clothing shops, greenhouses, and living quarters. The “window” was not actually a pane of clear glass, but a flat screen TV embedded in the wall. Most people showed artwork of what people thought Space looked like, but Romulus liked to show pictures of pretty woman and wrestling matches on his “window.”

“You can't prove that!” Alfred said. “I'm going to be the first person to ever reach Space! I'll beat that Commie bastard for sure!” He grinned manically and thrust a thumbs up at Romulus, then ran out of the café, most likely to attack someone else's windows.

Romulus sighed. He needed caffeine. How fortunate that he owned a coffee shop.

* * *

One strong cappuccino later, Romulus was restored to his overenthusiastic, talkative self. “A-Welcome to _Roma Antiqua_!” he exclaimed happily to his first customer of the day. “You a-look like you need a triple espresso and good sex! The coffee you can a-have now, but you a-have to make an appointment for the sex!” He ran a hand through his sexy bed-head hair and winked charmingly.

“Shut up,” demanded Adelhard, the owner of the book shop across the hall. He had long blond hair and stern blue eyes and the astonishing ability to appear unaffected by Romulus's flirting. The book shop he ran was a unique combination of a store and a library. The bookshelves were stocked with public copies of books which patrons were allowed to read inside the library or coffee shop but which they couldn’t take back to their rooms. One could buy their own copy of any book from the cashier at the front.

Despite Adelhard’s death glare, Romulus happily began chatting about his week, his latest dream, and his morning. Adelhard stared stonily at him while the other man prepared the espresso.

“...And Alfred tried to a-break my window this morning! My a-poor window! I'm a-so lucky it a-wasn't damaged because now I can a-still watch the next wrestling match! And—”

“If all you got vas an almost broken vindow,” Adelhard said stoically, “you are fortunate. Last night, Ivan broke into my book store und moved all the bookshelves on the back vall to form an 'iron curtain,' as he called it, und then tried to zaw through my vall.”

Romulus laughed loudly. “Ha ha ha! That's a-so funny!”

Adelhard glared. “You didn't think Alfred breaking your vindow vas funny.”

“That's because it a-happened to me,” Romulus replied. “It's funny when it a-happens to you!” He handed the finished espresso over and whacked his friend on the back.

Adelhard glared harder. “I hate you,” he said. “Anyvay, Basch chased Ivan out of the book store vith his tazer und now Gilbert is on another rearranging spree.”

Romulus laughed again, then caught sight of another person entering. “Ah, Francis!” he called. “ _Boungiorno_! Do you a-know where the rest of my adorable employees are?”

Francis put on a _Roma Antiqua_ apron and tied his shoulder-length blond waves back with a blue ribbon. “Roderich iz still sleeping,” he said, then pulled out a camera. “Look, I got a picture of him in 'is piano pajamas!”

While Romulus and Francis giggled at Roderich's drooling mouth and choice of pajamas, Adelhard left and two more people entered.

“ _Boungiorno_!” greeted Feliciano happily, followed by the sour-faced Lovino. He bounded behind the counter and hugged Romulus.

“Ah, my cute little _bambini!” Romulus laughed, ruffling Feliciano's hair._

“Stop a-calling us that!” Lovino snarled. “We're a-not babies anymore!”

“You are still cute, zough,” Francis said. “I know Antonio would agree~!”

“Sh-shut up!” Lovino grabbed his _Roma Antiqua_ apron and wrapped it around Francis's neck in an attempt to strangle him. The two of them were struggling when their second customer of the day entered.

“Well, this is a pleasant surprise,” drawled Arthur with a smug smile. “Stuck your foot in it again, Francis? I can't complain, really—watching you get strangled just made my day!”

Francis finally freed himself from Lovino's clutches and pouted at Arthur as he stepped up to the cash register. “It was not my fault zhis time!” he complained. “All I did was call 'im cute an' mention zhat Antonio—”

“Do I look like I care about your side of the story, Frog? An Earl Grey, please, and a blueberry scone.”

“But you alwayz get tea! 'Ow about a café au lait?”

“No,” Arthur said flatly, his expression hard.

“A café miel?”

“No.”

“Chai latte?”

“No.”

“'Ow about a different kind of tea,” Francis suggested desperately. “Green tea?”

“No.”

“A red tie?”

“No.”

“Chamomile?” 

“No.”

“Can't you try _somezhing_ new? Even a croissant?”

“No.”

Francis was quiet for a moment. Suddenly, tears began to well in his eyes. “ _Mon ami_... you... you....”

Alarmed, Arthur blinked and his thick eyebrows drew together with concern. “Francis, are you all ri—”

“YOU’RE SO BORING!” Francis wailed. 

Arthur's mouth dropped open in shock. “What the bloody hell?!”

“You always get zhe same zhing, every single day! You are so uninspired and dull! I'm tired of making Earl Grey for you! I cannot take it!”

Arthur flushed with anger and embarrassment. “I'm not boring! So what if I order the same thing every day?! I'm the customer—”

“Well, no longer, I say!” With a dramatic twirl, Francis's apron dropped away and his hair came out. His blue eyes and wavy blond tresses seemed to sparkle as he declared, “I'M GOING ON STRIIIIIKE!”

At a loss for words, Arthur was stunned silent for a moment. Finally, he yelled, “FROG! THAT'S IT, I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!”

Francis promptly fled the café with Arthur on his tail. They nearly bowled over Roderich in the doorway, forcing the aristocrat to dodge out of the way at the last minute. He watched the two retreating blonds with disdain, brushed imaginary dust off his shoulders, and entered the café with dignity and elegance. 

“I see those two are at it again,” he commented.

“Ah,” sighed Romulus. “Feliciano, a-take over the cash register, _per favore_.”

“ _Sì_!”

Roderich seated himself at the grand piano in the corner of the café and began playing a soft classical piece as the morning rush of customers began to filter in.

With Feliciano taking orders at the cash register, Lovino was left to prepare drinks with Romulus. Not that Lovino minded making the coffee—it was better than dealing with the customers. Trying to be polite and friendly was exhausting. Lovino was also good at making coffee... though Feliciano's always looked prettier. Lovino scowled to himself as he accidentally spilled some coffee on the counter.

Lovino's main problem was that he was often impatient and forgot to handle the machinery and the ingredients gently. This led to him spilling liquids, burning his fingers, and making the whipped cream look sloppy. It also led to an overall bigger mess than when Feliciano made coffee.

“Lovino,” Romulus said, drawing his attention away from his thoughts. “Could you a-run down to the greenhouse, _per favore_? We need more fresh coffee beans and tea leaves.”

Lovino grumbled a bit, but inwardly was relieved to get a break from all the caffè americanos customers kept ordering. 

...Also, Antonio worked in the greenhouse, and seeing him wouldn't be _so_ terrible...

With his mind made up, Lovino took off his apron (it looked too stupid to wear outside the stupid café ) and walked down the wide hallway past Adelhard’s book store-slash-library. The book store door was open, and Lovino paused by the doorway when he heard a loud voice from within.

“Verdammt Ivan! That _Scheissekopf_ ruined my awesome organization arrangement!” Gilbert snarled, red eyes narrowed as he moved a wheeled bookshelf.

Ludwig, Gilbert's younger brother, was moving another shelf nearby. This shelf happened to have Heracles sleeping on it's flat top, but Ludwig appeared unaffected by the extra weight. He remarked, “I don't see how it makes much difference, since you rearrange the store every other day anyvay.”

“That's not the point! The point is that he invaded my awesome kingdom! He moved my awesome stuff! Unforgivable! This is var!”

“ _Ja, ja, ja_...” Ludwig sighed, his tone halfway between placating and uncaring.

Lovino took a moment to feel vicious pleasure over the fact that someone had messed with the potato bastards before he continued walking. At the end of the hall was a cheerful green door with a red tomato painted on it. Lovino's lips tilted up against his will at the sight. No matter how many times he saw this door, it put a smile on his face, however briefly.

He opened the door and descended the three shallow steps that led into the garden. Overhead, a large dome surrounded and outlined the garden. The geometric panes were made of a nigh-undestructable cloudy plastic that allowed light in but didn't let anyone see what was outside.

“Oi, Antonio!” Lovino called, glancing around the greenhouse. He finally found who he was looking for when Antonio stood up from between the tall rows of pea vines.

“Lovi!” Antonio greeted, quickly running over to hug the shorter boy. Lovino allowed himself a full second to relish in the warm contact before he fought the other off.

“ _Bastardo_! Get off, I'm a-not here for a social visit!” he grumbled. “We a-need more coffee and tea leaves in the café.”

“ _Sí, sí_ ,” Antonio said, smiling. He walked over to a drying rack where coffee beans, herbs, and other plants were set out to dry. Next to the the drying rack were a few shelves of dried ingredients that had already been put in bags. “Which kinds of tea?”

Lovino shrugged and glanced off to the side. “All the usual ones, probably.” Suddenly, a flash of movement on the far edge of the greenhouse caught is eye. “...Antonio?”

“ _Sí_?”

“What is Ivan doing in your garden?”

“ _Qué_?!” Antonio exclaimed, whirling around with wide green eyes. He picked up a wood ax and ran toward the intruder, shouting, “Ivan! What are you doing?!” Lovino decided to watch the exchange from a safe distance.

Ivan stood up and turned to face Antonio with a serene smile on his face and a shovel in his hand. Next to him was a shallow hole. “Don't vorry, Comrade, I am not harming plants. Only making tunnel to Space.”

“You are still trying to get outside? Ay ay ay!” Antonio waved the ax in the air, his expression uncharacteristically fierce. “Not in the garden! Leave! _VAYA_!”

Ivan dropped the shovel and left sulkily, muttering “Kol kol kol kol...” under his breath as he went. Lovino hid behind a fruit tree when he passed.

Once Ivan was gone, Lovino peered around the greenhouse. Once again, a flash of movement caught his eye. “Antonio! There's another one!” he screeched, panicked.

Antonio raced over to find Alfred just about to take a hammer to one of the greenhouse's plastic panes. With a war cry, the brunette knocked the hammer out of Alfred's hand and pushed him away from the greenhouse wall. “ _Idiota_! Leave! _VAYA_!”

Alfred stumbled back with wide eyes. “What the hell, Dude?!” he said. “You're supposed to be a cheerful fucking bastard who's oblivious as hell!”

Antonio grabbed Alfred's collar and dragged him to the garden door and tossed him back inside. “BOTH OF YOU _IDIOTAS_ ARE NOT TO SET FOOT IN MY TOMATO KINGDOM EVER AGAIN!” he yelled, then slammed the door on the two shocked intruders.

For a moment, all was still in the greenhouse as Antonio panted and Lovino peeked out from behind his tree. Then just as quickly as Antonio had become violent, he reverted back to his usual carefree manner. “It's safe now, Lovi!” he said happily and returned to the bags of dried herbs.

Lovino emerged warily from his hiding place and accepted the bags that Antonio handed to him. “...G-Good job,” he stuttered out, blushing furiously. “Y-you shouldn't a-let those creepy bastards a-push you around.”

A surprised expression crossed Antonio's face before he smiled widely. “ _Muchas gracias_ , Lovi! You're so cute!”

Lovino's face became even redder and he floundered for a minute before blurting, “ _Arrivederci_!” and making a hasty tactical retreat inside, remembering too late that the two intruders could still be standing there. Luckily, though, Ivan and Alfred had already left to begin their next escape plans.

Back at _Roma Antiqua_ , Lovino was greeted with a kiss on the cheek and a plate of waffles from Emma, who had just arrived at the café. She and Elizabeta were pastry chefs/bakers (along with Francis, if he wasn't making coffee or on strike) while Romulus and Feliciano made the drinks. Lovino put the tea away in a cabinet and started roasting the coffee beans.

Coffee bean roasting was perhaps Lovino's favorite job in the café. This was mostly due to the fact that it didn't require being polite to anyone. He also appreciated the intricacies of the process and enjoyed experimenting with different roasting styles. 

Romulus and Feliciano, on the other hand, were too scatterbrained and forgetful to make a good coffee roast. They preferred greeting and chatting with the customers while making coffee.

“ _Ciao_!” Feliciano said happily as a familiar brunette approached the cash register. “What would you a-like to order today, Toris?”

Toris smiled tiredly. “ _Sveiki_ , Feliciano. Can I please have a melya, a caffè gommosa, an apple turnover, and a chocolate croissant, all to go?”

“Are you a-getting breakfast for Feliks again?” asked Feliciano as he handed the pastries across the counter.

“Yes,” Toris sighed. “He's holed up in his room writing another book and refusing to come out.”

“Really? That's a-so great! I really a-liked _The Dragon Under the Castle_. Is he a-writing a sequel to it?” As he chatted, Feliciano began preparing the drinks Toris had ordered.

Toris sighed again. “Yes. He is making me be his editor again.” _And being his editor is torture_ , Toris didn't say aloud. _So many grammar mistakes and plot holes!_

“You're his editor? That's a-so cool! Ve, do you a-know what happens to the wise king? Give me all the spoilers! Ve~”

Laughing nervously, Toris explained, “Well, he's not done with his first draft, so I haven't read anything yet.” This was true, but Toris had omitted the fact that Feliks used him as a sounding board for his crazy plot, so he _did_ know about everything that happened.

“That's a-too bad,” Feliciano said as he handed Feliks the two coffees. “Well, as soon as you a-know something, come and a-tell me, ve!”

Toris made a half-hearted agreement and darted out of the café. As he was making his way back to Feliks's room, he was forced to flatten himself against the wall in order to not be hit by the large table that Berwald was carrying through the corridor.

“ _Ei_ , Berwald!” Toris squeaked as a wooden corner nearly clipped his head, causing him to almost drop his coffees and pastries. “Don't hit me!”

“S'rry,” Berwald mumbled. His clothes were dusted with wood shavings from all the carpentry he did and he always seemed to smell like pine.

“Oh, is that to replace the table in the kitchen that Arthur burned last week when he was cooking?” Toris asked awkwardly. On one hand, he didn’t want to talk to the other because of his scary face, but on the other hand, he didn’t want to be rude.

“Mm,” Berwald agreed and continued walking. Apparently he was impervious to awkwardness.

Toris stood still for a moment after the taller man had passed, shivering and feeling awkward. Then he regathered himself and finished the trip to Feliks's room. 

When he reached the magenta and purple door, he knocked twice slow and three times fast. Feliks had assigned Toris with this specific knocking combination and pretended to not be inside if he heard any other knock. Toris thought it was ridiculous, but it was impossible to argue with Feliks.

If Toris had learned anything from his strange friendship with Feliks, it was that the blond boy was a series of paradoxes. For example, Feliks dreaded meeting new people but was able to quickly put on a perfect mask of nonchalance and arrogance when he was forced to interact with them. He was also paranoid about having strangers in his room, but he never bothered to lock his door. 

Before Toris could awkwardly attempt to turn the door nob with his arms full of food, the door was yanked open from the inside and Feliks invaded his personal space with wide green eyes and a bright smile. “Coffee!” he exclaimed, grabbing the sweet caffè gommosa from him. “Toris, I love you!”

Toris blushed briefly, but he knew that Feliks threw the word _love_ around like it was confetti. He was never quite sure what their relationship was, but he’d learned to just roll with it. “I also got you a chocolate croissant,” he said, handing the pastry over.

“You’re, like, the best,” Feliks praised in between messy bites of croissant. Toris smiled and closed the door behind him before settling himself on Feliks's couch to eat his own breakfast.

One might expect from Feliks's appearance—specifically, his tendency to wear skirts, his fondness of pink and purple, and his smoothly waxed legs—that his room would be equally “girly.” Toris, however, believed that Feliks simply transcended gender stereotypes. He preferred girls’ clothing because it was lighter and brighter (“Seriously, why do most dudes wear so much gray and brown? _Boring_!”) and regularly shaved his body hair because it was “really fucking itchy,” but never tried to hide his body type or voice, which were obviously masculine. He was also as tactless and socially awkward as any other teenage boy. His room was a brightly colored mess of strewn clothes, empty food containers, numerous books, and stuffed dragons.

“So I was thinking about my story,” Feliks said after he scarfed down his coffee and croissant, and launched into a long, complicated explanation of a subplot that he wanted to add to his manuscript. Toris listened to him dutifully while he finished his breakfast at a more sedate pace, nodding and “hm”ing in all the right spots.

After an hour and a half of listening to Feliks brainstorm, Toris glanced down at his watch and said, “Well, I’m going to go meet Lukas in the book store soon; he finished his manuscript and wants someone other than Mathias to look it over. Do you need anything from Adelhard’s?”

“Yeah! I want every book they have about dragons!”

“I thought you already have every book ever written with or about dragons,” Toris pointed out.

“There might be new ones,” Feliks said. “I’m too lazy to check for myself.”

Toris left Feliks's room with an exasperated shake of his head and started walking down the wide corridor. As he was approaching the book store, he heard music coming from an an open doorway and stopped to look inside with curiosity. As soon as he saw who was responsible for the music, however, he wished that he had not stopped.

“I-Ivan!” Toris stuttered. “W-What are you doing here?”

“Here” was a wide, tall, circular room next to _Roma Antiqua_ , popularly called the Tree Tower because of the large, living [sugi tree](http://botanyboy.org/wp-content/uploads/SacredSugi.jpg) that grew in the center of it. The ceiling of the room, which was eleven stories up, was made of the same cloudy plastic as the greenhouse, giving the tree light.

At the base of the great tree stood Ivan holding a [bayan](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bayan_\(accordion\)), a type of accordion. He glanced at Toris and smiled. “Privet, Comrade. I am making music. You like?”

Toris nodded hurriedly, not wanting to anger the other. “O-Of course! But, er, why are you playing the accordion?”

“I read in book that it makes trees grow faster,” Ivan replied serenely. “I am making this tree grow very much faster.”

“O-Okay. But, er, why?”

“So it grows so fast it breaks roof.”

Toris sighed as he realized that Ivan’s strange behavior was yet another break out attempt. “I am not sure that music will make it grow that fast,” he pointed out. “I am not sure that trees can grow that fast.”

“Ve vill see,” Ivan said with a mysterious and crazed smile. He started playing the accordion again.

Toris was about to leave when a flash of movement caught his eye. He looked up the tree and his mouth fell open. “He-Heracles?! What are you doing up there?!”

Standing on the lowest branch, which was twenty feet up the trunk, was Heracles. Not only was he precariously perched there, but he was dancing, swaying his hips and moving his arms to the tune of Ivan’s bayan.

At Toris’s exclamation, Ivan stopped playing and Heracles stopped dancing. Heracles blinked owlishly down at Toris and replied blandly, “I climbed up here to nap but I can’t get back down. And there’s music, so I have to dance.”

“You are going to be squished vhen tree grows into ceiling,” Ivan informed him and resumed playing the accordion. Heracles began swaying again.

“You are going to fall!” Toris squeaked worriedly. 

Heracles and Ivan ignored him.

Panicked, Toris dashed out of the Tree Tower and ran through the halls, no longer thinking about Lukas in the book store. Instead, he ran to a different storefront: _Mind-Blowing Massages_.

“Sadık! Sadık!” Toris yelled as he ran inside the shop. “You have to come help! Heracles is stuck in a tree!”

“Eh? A tree?” Sadık repeated. During the day, Sadık ran his own massage and spa business, and at night, he worked at _Roma Antiqua_ making different types of coffee with alcohol. He was also frenemies with Heracles. “That _aptal_! Fine, lead the way!”

Toris dragged Sadık back with him to the Tree Tower. “See?! You have to get him down!”

Sadık stared at the scene for a few seconds before he began dancing as well, doing the same hip swaying and arm waving as Heracles. Toris watched with disbelief, then groaned and left again.

This time, Toris headed to Adelhard’s book store, though he wasn’t thinking about Lukas. He took five steps inside and was immediately lost in the unfamiliar arrangement of shelves. He floundered for a moment before spotting Ludwig and latching onto his arm.

“ _Was_ —?!” Ludwig yelled, startled, as the normally timid brunette invaded his personal space with wide eyes and frantic pants.

“Where’s the manga section?!” Toris demanded.

Ludwig seemed to sense the gravity of the situation, because he led Toris to the manga section without asking questions. In front of the bookshelf stood a single black-haired figure.

“Kiku!” Toris exclaimed, causing the other to look up with surprise. “Heracles is stuck in a tree and he can’t get down and he and Sadık are _dancing_ because Ivan is playing music!”

“Oh no,” Kiku said, frowning as he quickly but carefully put back his manga. “This sounds very serious. Preez show me where they are.”

Toris led the way back to the Tree Tower with both Kiku and Ludwig in tow. As soon as they arrived, he braced his hands on his knees and panted while the two newcomers took in the scene.

“...I vill get a ladder,” Ludwig said and left.

“Herac’rs and Sadık are compe’rred to dance to music,” Kiku said, observing the situation. “So the first step is to get Ivan to r’eave.” He thought for a moment before pulling out his cellphone and dialing a number. “...He’rro, Nata’ria? Your big brother is current’ry in the Tree Tower—”

Ivan turned pale and ran out of the room at top speed.

“Ah, he just r’eft,” Kiku said into the receiver. “But he is probab’ry nearby…. You are very we’rcome.”

Toris felt a moment of sympathy for Ivan. His younger sister, Natalia, was terrifying and constantly chasing Ivan.

Just then, Ludwig reentered carrying a long ladder. He extended the end and set it against the branch that Heracles was stuck on, holding it securely in place while the brunette descended. As soon as Heracles was safely on the ground, Kiku grabbed his hand and began gently scolding him. Heracles seemingly ignored the speech and nuzzled Kiku’s hair, purring like a cat.

Toris sagged in relief. “Disaster averted,” he said to himself. Then he remembered something. “Oh no! I still need to meet Lukas in the book store!”

Together, the group of five returned the book store, where Ludwig put the ladder away in a closet, Kiku dragged Heracles over to the manga, followed by Sadık, and Toris found Lukas at one of the reading tables with a book in his hand and a thick binder in front of him.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, Lukas!” Toris apologized as he sat down across from the other.

“It’s fine,” Lukas said, not even looking up from the book he was reading. “There’s my manuscript.”

Toris huffed exasperatedly at Lukas and picked up the binder holding the novel. Most of Lukas’s stories were about trolls and other strange mythical creatures. Unlike Feliks's brand of humorous fantasy, Lukas’s fantasy was eerie and suspenseful and most of his humor was either sarcastic or unintentional. His writing was also much cleaner than Feliks's.

As he read the manuscript, Toris smiled whenever he found comments written sloppily in the margins with red ink. Mathias loved to read Lukas’s drafts and always wrote his comments in red. He was no good at catching grammar mistakes or typos, but he suggested ways to create much-needed comic relief. When he wasn’t hanging out with Lukas, he spent his days as a freelance salesperson and his nights in the café serving alcohol with Sadık. He also maintained an entertaining blog and a weekly podcast.

Mathias was the reason why Toris always used green pens on Lukas’s manuscripts. For around three hours, he pored over the novel, making corrections and comments in green while Lukas read silently across from him. He was so involved in his work that he didn’t register the passage of time until his stomach rumbled.

“Oh, look at that!” Toris exclaimed, glancing at his watch. “It’s lunch time already. Do you mind if I take this with me?” He held up the manuscript. “I should be able to get it back to you sometime tomorrow.”

“Sure,” Lukas said. “ _Hade_.” 

“ _Sudie_ ,” Toris replied and left.

Lukas idly watched Toris walk away. Then he stood up and left the book shop as well, turning down the corridor toward the greenhouse. Before he reached the tomato door, he turned down another hallway, at the end of which was a ice blue door. Lukas grasped the familiar handle and opened the door.

On the other side of the ice blue door was a dome structure much like the greenhouse, but instead of rows of crops and herbs, the ground was covered in different types of grass and livestock meandered around. A river cut through the field, entering from an unknown source outside the dome and disappearing on the other side area. The river entrance and exit were covered with strong, fine filters that kept the fish in the river.

Sitting on the river bank was a boy with pale blond hair and a light blue coat. Next to him were a few skeins of red, blue, and white wool and a half-knitted sock on double-pointed needles.

“ _Hei_ , Emil,” Lukas called to his younger brother. “It’s lunch time. Let’s go eat together.”

“There’s a pest in the river,” Emil said.

“What?” Lukas stood next to Emil and peered into the river.

“Look over there.” Emil pointed to the out-flowing end of the water. 

Lukas followed Emil’s finger and spotted the end of a snorkel and a dark figure at the grate. “Oh. I see what you mean. Have you called Basch?”

“No. I didn’t want him trying to shoot into the water. It’d upset the fish and I’d have to get the pellets out.”

“I guess I’ll call him, then,” Lukas sighed, pulling out his cellphone and speed-dialing number three. 

The line was picked up immediately. _“Vhat do you vant?”_ Basch demanded.

“There’s a Code Red in the pasture,” Lukas replied. “Leave the gun inside but bring Ludwig with you.”

_“On my vay.”_

Lukas put his phone away and waited. Barely three minutes later, the blue door burst open and Basch burst out with Ludwig right behind him. The security guard’s gun was missing; instead, he was wearing a pair of brass knuckles. “Alright, vhere is this _Scheissekopf_?”

“In the river,” Emil said, pointing. “I think he’s trying to get through the grate. Probably another one of his ‘escape’ plans.”

Basch observed the situation with his calculating green eyes. Then he turned to Ludwig and ordered, “Come on, Ludwig,” and stomped his way over the the end of the river. Ludwig followed him with an expression of exasperation. When they reached the edge of the dome where the intruder was, they struck as one and yanked Alfred out of the water.

“Dudes, what the hell?!” Alfred yelled, thrashing in their grip. His words were muffled, however, by the snorkel still in his mouth. He spat out the rubber mouth piece. “Dammit! I was so _close_ this time, I could feel it! I’m _gonna_ get there! You can’t stop me forever!”

“You wanna bet?” Basch growled, holding up a metal-adorned fist in Alfred's face.

Apparently, Alfred had a death wish, because he laughed and said, “You’re so short! Do you even lift, bro?”

“Oh, _Scheisse_ ,” Ludwig whispered, hurriedly taking a step back as Basch’s eyes appeared to glow red with fury.

Alfred realized his mistake and paled. A moment later, Basch lifted him up over his head and threw him  
into the river.

“Oh my god, I’m sorry!” Alfred sputtered as he came up for air. “I’m sorry, I’m fucking sorry! Don’t fucking kill me, man!”

“Come on, Ludwig,” Basch ordered, pulling Alfred out of the water again. Ludwig nodded and grabbed the wet blond’s right arm, helping to forcefully escort Alfred out of the pasture.

The security guard, his temporary assistant, and the apprehended disturber of the peace had just made it back to Adelhard’s Book Shop and dried Alfred off with some spare towels when Basch’s cellphone rang. He quickly answered it with a snappish “What this time?!”

_“Um, Hello… are you the head of security for Sector ‘Gran Paradiso’?”_

Since the entire world was just one huge, sprawling buildings, it was separated into sectors for the sake of an organized security system. A sector was the area in which a single security team patrolled. Most security teams contained from three to ten guards, but Basch took care of his sector alone, with the occasional help from Ludwig, Berwald, Heracles, or Sadık.

“Yes,” Basch replied warily. “Who are you und vhat do you vant?”

_“I’m a security guard in Sector ‘Other Grace’ and we… uh… **received** a resident from your sector.”_

“Received? What the fuck does that mean?!”

_“Well… the chef found him hiding in a wooden box which was **supposed** to have a shipment of tomatoes from your sector’s greenhouse. He made a big ruckus and said that he thought the crate was going into Space, for some reason.”_

“...Does he haff vhite hair and purple eyes and a scarf?” Basch asked suspiciously.

_“Yes. How did you—”_

“Is he there vith you?”

_“Well, yes—”_

“Put him on,” demanded Basch.

A moment later, a familiar voice said _“Privet!”_ over the phone line.

“Vhy vere you in the tomato box, Ivan?” Basch asked flatly.

_“I thought destination label said ‘Outer Space,’”_ Ivan explained. _“...Also, I vas hiding from Natalia.”_

Basch released an aggravated noise that was somewhere between a sigh and a growl. “Stay right vhere you are,” he ordered Ivan. “Do not go _anyvhere_. I’m going to pick you up because I don’t trust you to get back on your own.” He hung up abruptly and whirled on Alfred. “Und you! Don’t go anyvhwere vhile I’m gone!” With that, Basch turned and ran out of the book store.

Alfred pouted after him. “Aw, man! But books are so _boring,_!”

“I po’ritely disagree,” Kiku said quietly. “Books are quite interesting. In fact, I think you would find manga and comic books very exciting. There are some with heroes and superpowers—”

That caught Alfred's attention. He whirled around and put his hands on Kiku’s shoulders, staring him in the eyes with a maniacal grin. “Really?! Awesome! Where are these mayn-gah things!”

Kiku grew flustered and pulled himself out of Alfred's grip with a panicked “You are invading my persona’r space!” Once he’d calmed down, however, he removed a superhero comic from the shelf next to the manga section and handed it to the excited blond.

“Wow, thanks!” Alfred turned to the first page and quickly lost himself in the past-paced action panels and heroic dialogue. Soon, he had devoured several superhero comics. He was so absorbed in reading that he didn’t notice the two hours that Basch was gone until he’d returned with Ivan in tow. 

Literally in tow—Basch was dragging Ivan after him by the ear.

“Alright,” Basch declared loudly in the near-silent book shop, finally releasing Ivan’s ear. “You’re going to stay here und read quietly like a normal fucking person for at least two und a half hours! Und stay out of trouble! If I haff to stop anymore escape attempts today, I VILL SHOOT BOTH YOUR _VERDAMMT_ FACES OFF! DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?!”

Ivan and Alfred both nodded hurriedly. 

From several shelves away, Gilbert's voice called, “Yeah! You go, Basch! Show those _Scheisseköpfe_ who’s boss!”

Basch huffed and stalked toward the book shop door. As he was almost to the corridor, Ludwig approached him warily.

“Two und a half hours is oddly specific,” Ludwig commented. “Vhy?”

“I’m going to the gym to blow off steam for an hour, und then I’m going to Lili’s tea party,” Basch replied with a straight face. “Anyvun who disturbs our tea party vill die.”

“I see,” Ludwig sighed, wondering if he would be physically able to keep both Ivan and Alfred in the library for two and a half hours. One of them he could deal with, but both the hellraisers at once was a daunting task.

Luckily, though, when Ludwig returned to the manga and comic section where Kiku, Alfred, Ivan, Heracles, and Sadık were all gathered, they were miraculously quiet and absorbed in their respective books. Kiku was giggling over a shoujo manga, Alfred was reading through a stack of superhero comics, Ivan was thumbing through a horror novel with a creepy smile, Heracles was… sleeping on a book about cats, and Sadık was reading _The Dragon Under the Castle_ and laughing silently.

Ludwig sighed with relief and walked away to help Gilbert shelve books.

Alfred, meanwhile, had just figured out how to escape the world and reach Space. He needed superpowers, of course! Now he was doing diligent research (for the first time ever) by reading every superhero comic available in the book store for information on how the heroes got their superpowers.

Most often, Alfred had found, heroes were either born with powers or received them accidentally. It was very frustrating because Alfred had never found any mutated spiders, mysterious jewels, or colorful bubbling potions in the complex he was seeking to escape.

So Alfred continued to read origin story after origin story and boss battle after boss battle, immensely enjoying himself but not getting anywhere with his research. He was brought out of his superhero haze much later when Ivan broke the silence.

“This author thinks zombie apocalypse happened and Space is vasteland of dead monsters,” Ivan said thoughtfully. He had discarded the horror novel and picked up a creative interpretation of the creation of the world as they knew it.

Heracles blinked sleepily and sat up, his green eyes unfocused and thoughtful. “Perhaps Space is not a physical place,” he mused. “This building could be the extent of the physical plane and Space could be a spiritual plane where people go after they die.”

All four of the others stopped reading and turned their attention to Heracles in curiosity. However, it appeared that the sleepy brunette had filled his philosophical quota for the day, because he said, “Or maybe Space is the empire of cats. I love cats. Cats are so cool…”

Sadık pulled back with a fierce scowl. “That’s it, Jerkules?!” he demanded. “We thought you were actually gonna say something interesting! Hey, are you falling asleep on me?!”

Indeed, Heracles had flopped sideways into Sadık’s lap and was drooling on his brown cargo pants.

“Don’t you drool on me, _Aptal_! That’s it, I’m gonna—!”

“Mmuh,” Heracles groaned in exasperation. He lifted his upper body to flop more completely onto Sadık, forcing him to the ground with surprising strength and pressing his lips to Sadık’s, silencing his angry rant with a makeout session.

“Oh my!” Kiku exclaimed, his cheeks flushing bright red. He tried to avert his eyes for the sake of pirvacy and politeness, but he couldn’t quite drag his eyes away and his left hand was inching toward the camera in his pocket.

Alfred and Ivan, on the other hand, were ignoring the makeout session completely. In fact, Ivan had swiftly and sneakily left he book shop as soon as Heracles had started talking about cats. 

Meanwhile, Alfred had gone back to wondering how to get superpowers. In the comic he was reading, the superhero had just been cursed by an evil witch—and then Alfred had an idea.

“I’ve got it!” he exclaimed aloud (although nobody present paid any attention to him). “Arthur’s a witch! He talks about magic all the time! He can give me superpowers! Then I’ll become a hero and reach Space!”

When Alfred and his twin brother Matthew were children, Arthur and Francis had been their babysitters. These days, Arthur and Francis were more like eccentric adopted parents.

With his new plan in mind, Alfred leaped to his feet and dashed out of the book store. It occurred to him as he was running, though, that he didn’t know where Arthur was, so he pulled out his cellphone and tapped Arthur's contact on his phone.

The line rang a few times before his brother picked up. _“’Allo?”_

“Yo, Arthur! Dude, where are you?”

_“It’s almost supper time, Alfred, where do you think I am? I’m in the kitchen!”_

Alfred froze, then began running even faster. “...You haven’t... cooked anything... have you?” he asked between heavy breaths.

_“Well, yes. I just finished a batch of scones. Do you want—”_

Suddenly, Alfred heard another voice over the line. _“Aiyaah! Arthur! What you doing in my kitchen?!”_

_“Oh, hello, Yao! Do you want a scone?”_

_“No!”_ Alfred heard the ponytailed chef cry. _“Aiyaah! Get out of my kitchen! Out! Out!”_

_“Well, that was rude,”_ Arthur grumbled. _“Oh, Hello, Ivan. Do you want a scone?”_

_“Da,”_ a familiar, creepily serene voice agreed. _“I am vanting scone very much!”_

Alfred froze again, this time in confusion. Ivan knew as well as everyone else that Arthur’s scones were poisonous to anyone except their own maker. “No! Ivan, don’t—” he warned, even though his rival probably wouldn’t be able to hear him.

_“Fantastic!”_ Arthur exclaimed happily, and hung up on Alfred.

Alfred stopped running and stood in the middle of the corridor to think. Why would Ivan want Arthur's scones? He must not actually want to eat them, Alfred reasoned. He couldn’t _possibly_. Because intentionally eating one of Arthur's scones was the same as committing suicide—

Very suddenly, Alfred understood. He recalled Heracles words from the book store: _“Perhaps Space is not a physical place. This building could be the extent of the physical plane and Space could be a spiritual plane where people go after they die.”_

Even though Alfred hated Ivan and his big nose and his purple eyes and stupid creepy happy expression, he knew that Ivan didn’t deserve the agony of dying via poisonous scones. Also, if Space were really where people went when they died, which Alfred didn’t believe (because where did the river come from, then?), then he couldn’t let Ivan die first!

(Of course, Alfred didn’t really _care_ about Ivan. He didn’t care that Ivan was just as passionate and determined as him, loved Space just as much, was just as creative and crazy and chaotic. And he didn’t _care_ that Ivan was maybe just a little bit cute.)

With fear and determination coursing through his veins in equal measure, Alfred raced toward the Yao’s kitchen. He bowled people over in the hall and vaulted over obstacles. He ran so fast he thought for a moment that his feet weren’t touching the ground. He felt like he was flying.

Alfred reached the kitchen to find Yao trying to wrestling the baking tray of scones away from a confused Arthur while Ivan munched determinedly on his second scone even though his face was turning green.

Without stopping, Alfred threw himself into Ivan, tackling him to the ground and knocking the half-eaten scone out of his hand. It fell to the ground with a heavy thunk and didn’t bounce or roll. (If that didn’t prove that it was an inedible brink of carbon, Alfred didn’t know what would.)

Ivan stared up at Alfred with a confused, pained, green, ill-looking face. “Vhy…?” he asked, voice rough, before he started coughing violently.

“Because you’re stupid,” Alfred said in reply, although he wasn’t sure if Ivan heard it through his coughing fit. “Really, Space is _so_ obviously not where you go when you die.” Alfred tried to maintain an appearance of calm, but as the coughing continued, he became panicked. He didn’t know what to do. With shaking hands, he pulled out his phone and speed dialed 1. 

Matthew picked up the line immediately. _“Alfred, eh?”_ his brother greeted.

“Mattie!” Alfred exclaimed breathlessly. “Dude, you gotta help us! It’s an emergency! Ivan ate Arthur’s scones, he’s turning green and coughing!”

Matthew must have been startled, but he gathered himself quickly. _“Where are you?”_

“O-Outside Yao’s kitchen.”

_“Okay, we’re on our way. Turn Ivan on his side to make it easier for him to cough. See if you can get him to throw up. We’ll be there soon.”_

Matthew hung up, and Alfred dropped the phone to roll Ivan over hurriedly. The gray-haired boy was still hacking and spitting out black globs of half-chewed scone. Alfred thought about thumping his back to help him cough, but Matthew had told him to make Ivan throw up. “Yao,” Alfred turned desperately, “you know all that weird stuff about medicine, right?! How do you make someone throw up?!”

Understanding dawned in Yao’s eyes and he ripped Arthur's baking tray out of his hands to toss it aside, then quickly hurried to Ivan and knelt down. He stuck his fingers in Ivan’s mouth and held them there. Ivan gagged violently and began to heave. Black gunk and stomach acid dribbled out of his mouth onto the floor.

“That was an ancient and special healing technique passed down through my family for centuries,” Yao said proudly.

“...Your family taught you how to make people throw up their guts? That’s so weird,” Alfred said. 

Yao scowled at him. “Aiyah! Do not disrespect ancient family techniques! Besides, you were the one who told me to do it! No complaining!”

Luckily, before an argument could break out, Matthew and Carlos appeared on the scene and took over. 

Matthew had wavy blond hair and kind blue eyes and glasses. His best friend Carlos had mocha-colored skin and thick dark hair in dreadlocks that were held back with a bandanna. Together, they comprised the medical team in Sector ‘Gran Paradiso.’

Carlos and Matthew immediately checked Ivan’s vitals and made sure that he was stable enough to be moved, then quickly loaded him onto a stretcher and whisked him back to the hospital. Alfred startled out of his shock and followed after them.

The trip back to the hospital was a quick one since everyone in the hallways had gotten out of the way. Every resident in Sector ‘Gran Paradiso’ knew to get against the wall when Carlos and Matthew ran through the halls. Carlos’s loud voice also helped clear the path. Matthew, on the other hand, had a quiet voice that seemingly couldn’t rise above a whisper yell; he had taken to carrying around bells to get people’s attention.

Once the small group reached the hospital, Matthew and Carlos took Ivan to a smaller private room while Alfred was left in the greeting room with its cushy armchairs and boring magazines. Alfred huffed to himself, bored. Then one of the magazines caught his eye. It was an issue from one of the comic books that he’d read that afternoon.

Alfred had nothing better to do, so he picked up the issue and began rereading it. He was absorbed in the pages when Matthew exited Ivan’s temporary room.

“Eh, Alfred,” he said, smiling, “Ivan’s going to be fine. I know you were worried about him—”

“I wasn’t _worried_ ,” Alfred cut him off with a laugh. “I was just stopping him from being stupid.”

“Sure, eh.” Matthew rolled his eyes behind his glasses. He glanced at the superhero comic in his brother’s hands and smiled again. “You’re a hero, you know, eh.”

Alfred's eyes widened. “What, really?”

“Yeah. You saw someone in need and reacted quickly, even though he’s your ‘evil opponent in the race for Space.’ That’s what heroes do: they help people.”

Alfred was suddenly struck with an incredible epiphany. Superpowers didn’t make heroes. Reaching Space wouldn’t make him a hero, either. He mentally reviewed all the comics he’d read that afternoon, cross-referenced them with his recent experience, and realized that he already had the ability to be a hero if he continued to help people.

...But superpowers would still be awesome and he was still going to ask Arthur to work some magic for him.

“That’s it!” Alfred shouted gleefully, jumping up from his chair and hugging Matthew. “You’re a genius, Matthew! That’s the answer! I’m going to become a hero and help everyone! I’ll fight for the people by exposing this building for the prison it is! I’m going to SAVE THE WORLD!”

“That’s great,” Matthew wheezed quietly, “but you’re squishing me.”

“Huh? Did you say something? I couldn’t hear you.”

Carlos entered the room just in time to see Matthew’s face start to go blue. “Oy!” he yelled, rescuing the quieter boy from the deadly hug. “Hug someone else to death! Like that weirdo Ivan. He woke up, so you can talk to him or whatever.”

“Awesome!” Alfred bounded into the smaller room and was immediately met by a violet glare. “Dude, put the eyes away. I just saved you!”

“ _Nyet_ , you stopped me reaching Space,” Ivan grumbled. “I vas so close. You are mean.”

“You were being stupid. I said this earlier, but you were puking up your guts (which you totally brought down on yourself), so maybe you didn’t hear me, but that stuff Heracles said about Space being the land of the dead, or whatever? It’s obviously bullshit!”

“How vould you know? You have not died.”

“Well,” Alfred said reasonable, “if Space was a spiritual place, or whatever, then where would the river in the pasture come from?”

Ivan blinked. “Oh. You are making sense.”

“Of course! Now, since I’m the hero and I saved your life, I demand you pay me back by playing video games with me. And when you’re better, we should start working together! Because heroes always have allies.”

Ivan studied the boy in front of him. Alfred was grinning widely and sincerely, hand stretched out for a handshake. His blue eyes were lively and passionate, compelling Ivan to reach out and take Alfred's hand. It was warm. Ivan imagined that Alfred’s heat could burn his pale, chilled hands.

For a long time, Ivan had felt cold and lonely. He seemed to scare people away even when he smiled. But here was someone who didn’t flinch away from him, didn’t avoid his eyes, didn’t ignore him. Here was someone who could make his world warmer.

“ _Da_ ,” Ivan agreed, a real smile bunching his cheeks.

* * *

It was late in the evening, and Romulus was in a secret room next to _Roma Antiqua_. Though the wall between the café was thick, he could still hear the thrum of late night customers chatting while they drank their alcoholic coffee. Romulus sipped at his own caffè corretto, appreciating the tang of brandy. “So,” he said to his companion, “how does our empire a-look today?”

Adelhard flipped through a stack of papers which included everything from resource reports to resident complaints. “We haff a small amount of damage in Sector ‘Gran Paradiso’ from Alfred and Ivan,” he reported, “but they’ve been the only disturbances there today. Sector ‘Piz Bernina’ is experiencing a lack of meat because their butcher has been over-harvesting; ve’ll haff to replace him. The café in Sector ‘Ortler’ is subpar and has not been getting many customers, so ve vill give the café to somevun more capable. Reports are normal from all other sectors.”

“ _Stupendo_!” Romulus exclaimed. “We will a-send out the orders tomorrow morning. But for _now_ … how would you a-like to take a walk outside?”

Adelhard sighed. “Fine. But only for a little vhile.”

Romulus beamed and moved aside a tapestry on one wall, revealing a thick metal door. This was one of the few doors that went outside, or to “Space” as it was called by most. These doors were known only to the secret rulers of the world, Romulus and Adelhard. The door were necessary in order for them to repair outside damage, but Romulus liked to go outside whenever it pleased him.

The happy brunette quickly unlocked the fortified door and held it open for his partner, who snorted but strolled past. Just as Adelhard was in the doorway, however, Romulus grabbed his hand and pulled him in for a deep kiss.

“You know, we a-won’t be disturbed by anybody out a-here… so let’s see about a-setting up that appointment I mentioned earlier,” Romulus suggested with a waggle of his eyebrows

The stress of the day disappeared from the muscles in Adelhard’s neck and shoulders and he laughed quietly.

**Author's Note:**

>  **Translations:**  
>  _Dio caro_ —Italian—“Dear God”  
>  _Boungiorno_ —Italian—“Good morning”  
>  _Bambini_ —Italian—“Babies”  
>  _Per favore_ —Italian—“Please”  
>  _Sì—_ Italian—“Yes”  
>  _Bastardo_ —Italian—“Bastard”  
>  _Arrivederci_ —Italian—“Goodbye”  
>  _Ciao_ —Italian—“Hi/Bye”  
>  _Stupendo_ —Italian—“Stupendous”
> 
> _Sí_ —Spanish—“Yes”  
>  _Qué_ —Spanish—“What?”  
>  _Vaya_ —Spanish—“Go!” (command)  
>  _Idiota_ —Spanish—“Idiot”  
>  _Muchas gracias_ —Spanish—“Thank you very much”
> 
> _Verdammt_ —German—“Damn”  
>  _Scheissekopf(e)_ —German—“Shit head(s)”  
>  _Ja_ —German—“Yes”  
>  _Was_ —German—“What?”  
>  _Scheisse_ —German—“Shit”
> 
> _Sveiki_ —Lithuanian—“Hello”  
>  _Ei_ —Lithuanian—“Hey”  
>  _Sudie_ —Lithuanian—“Bye”
> 
> _Privet_ (Привет) —Russian—“Hi”  
>  _Da_ (Да)—Russian—“Yes”  
>  _Nyet_ (Нет)—Russian—“No”
> 
> _Aptal_ —Turkish—“Idiot”
> 
> _Hade_ —Norwegian—“Bye”  
>  _Hei_ —Norwegian—“Hi/Hey”
> 
> **Coffee:**  
>  A **cappuccino** is an espresso with hot milk and steamed milk foam.  
>  A **café au lait** is the French way of preparing coffee with milk.  
>  A **café miel** is an espresso with steamed milk, cinnamon, and honey.  
>  A **chai latte** is a latte that is flavored with chai tea instead of espresso.  
>  A **red tie** is a traditional Thai iced tea, which is a spicy and sweet mixture of chilled black tea, orange blossom water, star anise, crushed tamarind, sugar and condensed milk or cream, with a single shot of espresso.  
>  A **caffè americano** is coffee prepared by adding hot water to espresso. Similar to normal drip coffee.  
>  A **melya** is coffee flavored with cocoa powder and honey and sometimes cream.  
>  A **caffè gommosa** is a shot of espresso poured over a single marshmallow. The name means “rubbery coffee.”  
>  A **caffè corretto** is a shot of espresso “corrected” with a shot of liquor (usually grappa, brandy, or sambuca).
> 
> **Extra Info:**  
>  I didn’t like any of the names I found for Germania, so I found him a new one. Adelhard is a German name meaning “resolute.”
> 
> A [sugi tree](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cryptomeria) is a Japanese evergreen. In English it is called a Japanese cedar. It lives a long time and can grow up to 230 ft (70 m) tall and 13 ft (4 m) in trunk diameter.
> 
> The sectors ‘Gran Paradiso,’ ‘Piz Bernina,’ and ‘Ortler’ are all named after mountains in the Alps.


End file.
